


Just Average

by LadyDeb



Series: The Hand of Fate [1]
Category: Transformers (2007)
Genre: Gen, civilians in Chicago during Decepticon blockage, ordinary people as heroes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-02
Updated: 2013-01-02
Packaged: 2017-11-23 09:42:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/620740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyDeb/pseuds/LadyDeb
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>During the Decepticons' occupation and blockade of Chicago, a group of office personnel take shelter in one of the tunnels in Chicago's Pedway.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just Average

**Author's Note:**

> While watching Transformers: Dark of the Moon for the umpteenth time this weekend, I thought about the people in the buildings who were either trapped by the Decepticons and Sentinel Prime or who didn’t dare leave the buildings for whatever reason (such as, not wanting to be blown to smithereens). And thus, this story was born. Figures. I’ve been a Transformers fan since I was a fourteen year old girl back with Generation One, and this is my first non-crossover Transformers fic (shakes head in disbelief).

Disclaimer:  Neither the Autobots nor the Decepticons belong to me, nor do any of the elements of three _Transformers_ movies over the last five years.  They belong to Hasbro and Michael Bay.  However, the office personnel of my un-named company do belong to me.

 

She avoided complaining, if at all possible, but she was never really happy in Chicago.  It was a beautiful city and she loved visiting as a young girl, but when all was said and done, she wasn’t a city girl.  Even so, she came to Chicago to do a job and by God, she would honor that commitment.  Every weekend, she would explore the Pedway for her own amusement and edification.  It got her out of the apartment and gave her the opportunity to figure out which tunnels and skyways went where.  It never occurred to her that such knowledge would end up saving her life and the lives of her co-workers.  Why would it?

It started out as a perfectly ordinary day.  Like so many people these days, Angeline Curtis only vaguely paid attention to rumors of a mysterious alien race that hid in plain sight.  There were whispers of this alien race in Mission City, a broadcast which aired while she was at work, and a battle in Egypt.  Unfortunately, any evidence vanished by the time Angie had a chance to check out the links that her friends sent to her.  She was of the opinion that there was likely intelligent life out there; that it was sheer arrogance to assume that Earth was the home of the only sentient beings in the universe.  But up until the big red robot issued its ultimatum to the politicians (and they caved), Angie didn’t really believe in these mysterious whispers. 

It wasn’t that she believed whatever she was told.  In fact, at thirty-seven, she was pretty skeptical of everything.  However, the big red robot’s broadcast, followed by the announcement that the spineless creeps would appease the metallic prick, kinda convinced her that these beings were quite real.  She honestly didn’t know the difference between one faction or the other:  for all she knew these so-called rebels were the robot version of Al-Qaeda.  But something about this ‘leader’ set her teeth on edge.  Thus, when the ‘rebels’ were blown out of the sky and Chicago was locked down, Angie couldn’t really be surprised.  Unfortunately, with the city locked down, she had no way to get home.

There was nothing for it, and so, she continued to work.  When all else fails, she thought ruefully, keep doing what you’re doing until you’re told to do otherwise.  And as ever, some of the women followed her lead, while others used this time as a bullshit session (and, she thought, rather uncharitably, that was the only thing they were capable of producing).  And then, the screams started.  Angie was trying to make heads or tails out of the hand-written letter she was supposed to type up when her part-time file clerk Deanna screamed and ran away from the windows.  She collapsed at Angie’s side, dropping her head into the older woman’s lap, weeping hysterically.  The other file clerk, Josie, staggered away, whispering, “They’re murdering people down there, Ang!  I saw one of those metallic thing aim their weapon at a man, and he just… he’s not there anymore!”  Angie’s blood froze, especially after a scream from one of the window-watchers heralded the destruction of yet another building.  She gently helped Deanna to her feet, motioning Josie to watch over the younger girl.  Whatever the poor kid saw scared the hell out of her, and Angie wouldn’t ask her to watch it again.

And after seeing the street below?  It looked like. . .it reminded her of footage of New York City right after 9-11, and Angie barely bit back a scream.  Oh God.  Those things were huge.  Just … huge.   Angie’s mind reeled, and it was only a coppery taste in her mouth that rebooted her brain.  Blood.  She bit her tongue hard enough to draw blood, biting back a scream.  She forced herself to look away from the carnage below them, and tried to focus on what she could do.  There was a part of her which wanted to rush down and confront the metal monsters outside, but the stronger, more sensible (more cowardly?) part of her was shrieking at her that would be mind-bogglingly stupid.  _Think, Angeline, think_!  A quick look around her told her that her co-workers were in similar straits to her, and some were worse off. The big bosses were at a meeting on the other side of town, so for all she knew, they were all dead/missing in action.  They weren’t safe here and it wasn’t safe out on the streets, not with those ginormous things out there.

Was there such a thing as a safe place?  Maybe not a safe place, but what about a _safer_ place?  Maybe.  A plan took root in her mind, borne of her explorations, growing up in Tornado Alley and spending so many nights in the storm cellar because of a twister, as well as a visit to Montreal.  It wasn’t perfect, but it was better than staying up here and worrying about one of those metallic beings knocking over their building on account of because (and really, she wouldn’t put it past them).  Angie looked at those remaining in the office and raised her voice a little, calling, “Okay, everyone listen up!  We are not safe here!  Who brought spare clothes with them?”  There were a few nods.  Well, that was better than what she expected.   She continued, “Okay.  Everyone, save what you’re working on and lock your desks.  We’re going downstairs into the Pedway.  That should provide us with some shelter.  On your way down, stop by every vending machine available and get as much food and water as you can.  Move it!”

“Who died and put you in charge?” demanded an all-too-familiar voice.   _Seriously_?  It looked like the end of the world out there, and. . .seriously?  Angie rolled her eyes.  Office politics.  You had to love it.  There was always one person, in her experience, with a big mouth and not a whole lot to back it up.  At this job, her name was Evangeline, and she was the most annoying person Angie ever met.  As one of her friends said when Angie described Evangeline, ‘ _she thinks she’s all that and a bag of chips_.’  Oh yeah.  That summed it up.  Right now, she was standing a few yards away, hands on hips, her expression arranged in what Angie privately called her ‘I’m better than you’ sneer. 

Angie, however, merely returned to her desk and helped Deanna to her feet.  She offered the girl a reassuring smile and began shutting down her computer.  Josie led the younger girl away, murmuring that Angie had the right idea and they needed to be as quiet as possible.  She kept a protective arm around the girl’s shoulders and Angie mouthed a ‘thank you’ to the senior file clerk.  The poor kid was only eighteen.  It was hard enough for a woman of thirty-seven to process this crap, much less a teenager.  A quick glance around her demonstrated that most of her co-workers were following Deanna and Josie’s example; emphasis on _most_.

“Hey, at least she came up with a plan, Vangie!  Everyone, you heard the lady, let’s go.  I think we should take the stairs down,” Nora, one of the senior office assistants, fired back.  She was sitting at her desk, putting everything away, and glanced over at Angie to make her suggestion. Yeah, that sounded like a good plan.  She wasn’t willing to trust the elevators in this place right now.  Although, she really wished Nora wouldn’t call Evangeline ‘Vangie.’  It annoyed the other woman and rhymed with ‘Angie.’  That was even more annoying than one of Evangeline’s whining fits for which she was so well-known.  But Nora wasn’t finished.  Of course not.  She smirked a little as she rose to her feet, adding, “I think you should bring up the rear, Vangie, seein’ as how you think we’re so safe up here.”  Oooh, that would leave a bruise or three.  Evangeline’s eyes narrowed.  It wasn’t the plan that she objected to, as Angie well knew, it was that someone else came up with it.  Office politics.  She rolled her eyes in annoyance. 

“You do what you want, Evangeline,” Josie said bitterly, “I’m going with Angie.  She’s right.  There’s no such thing as a safe place, but underground, below one of the buildings is better than anywhere else right now.”  Angie was only barely paying attention to the argument.  She was busy searching for the plastic bags she kept at her desk.  Josie asked curiously, “What are you doing, Angie?”  Ah, success!  She’d forgotten that she moved her bags during the last office clean-up day.  Now, snacks should still be in the same place.  She slid the top of her cabinet back:  yep, there they were.  Within seconds, she had the shelf cleaned and the bag tied.  With her free hand, she hefted her backpack over her shoulder and joined the other girls at the door.

“Let’s go,” she said and peeked out the door.  Okay, that was good.  She wasn’t sure if the reigning metal monsters were all the same size.  The coast was clear.  She whispered, “Stay together and be as quiet as possible.  We don’t want to attract attention from them.  That kinda defeats the purpose.  Down we go, ladies.”  As she left the office, Angie noted that Evangeline was bringing up the rear.  Evidently, her life was worth more to her than her pride.  That was good.  There was hope for her yet.  Maybe.

 

TFTFTFTFTFTF

 

The idea, as they made their way downstairs, was to accumulate as much supplies as possible.  She had no idea how long they would be in the Pedway or how long this siege would last.  Nora had a transistor radio and she was listening to. . .something.   Something that made her pale.  It was bad news, whatever it was.  Until Nora told her what was going on, however, she couldn’t do anything.  And so, she focused on what she could do:  handing out the bags to the other girls, with the idea that they would use those bags at each vending machine. 

It wasn’t until they reached the Pedway that the group from the office started hearing anything.  And what they were hearing?  A mess.  Just a big mess.  Rumors and fractured narratives.  Then again, the people coming in were largely shell-shocked. Or, as one gray-faced survivor observed, ‘ _there’s some bad shit going on up there_.’  He was actually one of the more ‘with-it’ people whom the small group encountered.  As ‘with-it’ as anyone could be, and Deanna offered to share her provisions with the man, an offer he accepted with a weak smile.  While he ate a candy bar and drank a bottle of water, the only first aid rep available checked him over.  There was only so much they could do.

For the first few hours, the able-bodied who came down with Angie helped the survivors from the hell above as much as they could by distributing food and water, or just holding them while they wept.  The vendors in this part of the Pedway did what they could as well, and after a few hours, they took over tending the survivors and the first aid rep encouraged everyone else to get some rest.  He seemed to think that there would be more refugees coming in as more people thought of the Pedway, and he would need people with clear heads.  That meant no skimping on sleep or on rations.  He believed that this mess was likely to last a while.  Angie agreed.

Deanna fell asleep with her head in Angie’s lap as the older woman considered what they learned since the first wave of survivors.  The Decepticons (the robots now occupying Chicago) evidently came in more than one size, and right now, it was the big robots who ruled the roost.  When the smaller Decepticons came on the scene, they would need another hiding place.  Within the first five hours, the first aid rep assigned scouting duties to Evangeline and the custodian from the fourth floor (Angie suspected it was as much to get rid of Evangeline as it was to learn what was going on.  The other woman had that effect).

As Deanna slept, Angie found it bloody difficult to do the same.  Her mind just wouldn’t stop working.  And so, she reclined against the wall and closed her eyes.  She thought about what they survived and what was to come.  She thought about the exiled robots and if there was any chance they could have survived that explosion.  She thought about her parents.  They were in Texas with Angie’s older sister.  More to the point, they were taking care of her sister, who was going through an ugly divorce and an even uglier custody battle.  Angie didn’t begrudge her sister their parents’ support.  Right now, she was grateful that they weren’t close by.  They would have no doubt tried to get into Chicago to see her, and put their own lives at risk.  No.  No, they were better off in Texas.  She just wished there wasn’t a communication blackout, so she could reassure them that she was okay ... and they could reassure her that she would get through this.

The hours passed and with them came more refugees.  But along with the refugees, there were also people from other office buildings who had the same idea as Angie and her co-workers.  They were just as shell-shocked, witnessing the destruction of their office spaces and in some cases, the deaths of their co-workers.  That was something that Angie and her co-workers were spared, at least.  Evangeline and the custodian (Rafi?  Ruthie?  Rosie!) returned after eight hours of searching and scouting with the news that their floor was gone, people were dying on the streets, and the sky was filled with Decepticon aircraft.  The aforementioned Decepticons warships kept blowing the human planes out of the sky.  Angie could only hope that the pilots of those planes were able to parachute to safety, but she wouldn’t bet money on it.  She hoped, too, that others who worked on their floor escaped with their lives somehow.  For the first time, it occurred to her that maybe she should have conducted a sweep of the floor, rather than just worrying about her own group.

She was unaware of her musings until a gentle hand covered her own and Nora said softly, “You took care of us, Ang, and we didn’t exactly have a small group.  Sooner or later, people have to take care of themselves.  You saved the lives of fifteen people who might have otherwise died up there.  That’s nothing to sneeze at.”  Angie wasn’t so sure that she saved their lives.  Right now, they were in a holding pattern and it seemed like she just bought them time.  Nora whispered, squeezing her hand, “No matter what happens next, you saved our lives, Angie, because you figured out where the safest place was and you got us down here.”  Angie offered a tired smile, and Nora said, “Now, get some rest.  Ty has everything under control.”

It was Angie’s plan to close her eyes for a few minutes, rest her eyes.  Falling asleep was definitely not part of the plan (even though there really wasn’t much for her to do).  But she was exhausted and anxious, and her body had other ideas, as did her mind.  It seemed like only a few minutes later when the first aid rep, Tyler, was gently shaking her awake and murmuring, “Angeline.  Wake up.”  She blinked herself back into full consciousness and Tyler murmured, “So much for not getting any sleep.  But that’s okay.  That’s good.  You slept for five hours.  It’s over, Angeline.  The Autobots came back and tore apart the Decepticons.  Chicago is a mess, but the Decepticons are gone.  It’s over.”

Angie’s mind struggled to catch up with what he was telling her.  It was over?  The Autobots came back?  So they didn’t die when the rocket blew up?  Tyler called over, “Colonel, can you explain to Miss Curtis what happened?  I need to tell the others and start arranging for people to get to the refugee camps.”  He rose to his feet and said once more, “It’s over, Angeline.  They’re still figuring out what places are livable and which ones aren’t, but it’s over.” He smiled down at her and then trotted off to speak to a group of refugees.  A dark-haired man, about Angie’s own age, knelt in front of her and smiled gently.  He introduced himself as Colonel Will Lennox.

The story he told her was nothing short of fantastic, but after the last twenty-four (no, eighteen) hours, Angie could believe just about anything.  He told her that the Autobots weren’t in the part of the rocket that was destroyed and it was all part of a plan to throw the Decepticons off.  The Autobots never even left earth.  Angie blinked back tears.  She never met an Autobot, but even when humanity gave up on them, they didn’t give up on humanity.  Their plans also forced the governments to see that appeasing the Decepticons only made things worse (well, duh.  Didn’t they pay attention to history?).  From the colonel, she learned that the Decepticons’ plan including using slave labor in the form of human beings to rebuild their home planet.  Angie’s blood actually ran cold when he told her about that, but she was even more horrified to learn that they had human help.  Said traitor was dead.  And Colonel Lennox didn’t even blink when Angie responded to that with, ‘Good!’

At length, Colonel Lennox helped her to her feet and handed her off to one of his men with instructions to get her to the tent where she could get some real food and maybe a few hours of decent sleep.  It was as they reached the surface that Angie saw an Autobot for the first time.  He was. . .incredibly large.  And it was more than a little surreal for her, but the soldier at her side cheerfully called out, “Big Buddha!  This is Angie Curtis, one of the people who got other civilians into the Pedway and out of the reach of the Decepti-twerps!”  For the first time, Angie realized that this Big Buddha had only one arm.  The soldier added after a moment, “Miss Curtis, this is Optimus Prime, the _real_ leader of the Autobots!”

Holy Mary, Mother of God. . .he was huge.  Not quite as big as the metallic prick, but big.  Huge.  Ginormous.  Yet, his voice was incredibly gentle as he knelt in front of her, saying, “It is an honor to meet you, Angie Curtis.  Far more humans would have died today, were it not for the quick thinking and courage of people like you.”  Courage?   Her?  She blinked at him in astonishment.  Talk about surreal conversations!  She was talking to a thirty foot robot who just called her ‘courageous.’  He had to be thinking of someone else, because ‘courageous’ was the absolute last adjective she would have used to describe herself.  And maybe she said something to that effect, because Optimus Prime added with infinite gentleness, “What you saw and experienced was terrifying, without a doubt, but you put your own fear aside and led your friends to the safest place you could think of.  There are many kinds of courage, youngling, and that is an overlooked kind.  Right now, your body is in terrible need of nutrients and recharging.  Private, if you could escort Miss Curtis to the tent where she can find those things?  It was an honor to meet you, little one.”

Angie mumbled something that could have been the same, but her brain was in danger of shutting down.  The private put his arm around her shoulders once more, leading her in that direction, and threw over his shoulder, “You better get that arm re-attached, Big Buddha!”  Oh.  That was right.  He had only one arm.  The private added softly, “Sentinel Prime-that was the big red robot who demanded that the Autobots be exiled-ripped his arm off in the final confrontation.  But Big Buddha still took care of business with both him and Megatron.  Oooh, we better get you sitting down, Miss Angie.  C’mon, it’s just a little further now.  There we go.  You sit right here, I’ll get you a bottle of water and a granola bar.  Here’s a blanket for you, don’t want you going into shock.  There.  I’ll be right back.”

She wrapped the blanket around her shoulders, shuddering.  The city was a wreck.  It was a pretty good bet that she didn’t have a job any more.  She wasn’t sure if she had an apartment any more.  But, she was still alive and she could see her way through, one way or another.  The young private brought her a granola bar and a bottle of water.  She took them both, and as the boy started to walk away, she added hoarsely, “Thank you. . .for the food, and for coming for us.  Thank you for not letting those things keep you away.”

The youngster dropped to one knee in front of her, replying, “There was no way we were gonna stay away, ma’am, let those Decepti-twerps have our city, kill our people, overrun our world.  But you’re welcome.  Eat now, ma’am, and get some rest.  We’re gonna have one helluva clean up on our hands.”  He smiled and rose to his feet once more, allowing Angie to eat and drink and rest, while the military was getting the communications grid back up.  Once she got the word, she would call her parents and reassure them that she was all right.  And, the private was dead-on right about one thing:  there would be a helluva clean-up.  And maybe that was the place to start.  Maybe it was time for Chicago to be her city, if only for a little while.  For the first time since seeing the carnage on the street below her, seeing the ruined buildings that surrounded her own, Angeline Curtis was able to smile, to really smile.  They were battered and bloodied, but they were still here.  That had to count for something, even for someone as average as she was.

 

Fin


End file.
